


Inevitable

by frantic65



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-04
Updated: 2010-03-04
Packaged: 2017-10-07 17:32:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/67490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frantic65/pseuds/frantic65
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometime in S5 after Justin comes back from California but prior to 507.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inevitable

**Author's Note:**

> This fic inspired by the below drabble by .
> 
> _I walk in the room, searching for his illuminating smile. The thumpa thumpa drums through my body but I only feel want for his arms wrapped around my neck as he reaches for my mouth to welcome me. Pushing through the shirtless, glistening hordes of men until I spot him dancing. Men are watching him as he gyrates on the dance floor, in sync with the music, oblivious to my approach. Glancing my way, he smiles and dances his way toward me. I reach for him, feeling under his damp shirt as I explore his skin. We start to dance._

**Title:** Inevitable

I take another sip of my scotch and watch the lights of the city twinkle and glow before me. The view never changes, and apparently neither do I. I take another pull from my cigarette and wonder where he's gone this time.

It's the same song in a different key, and it always leads me to the same conclusion. Brian Kinney and relationships, whether non-defined or fucking committed, just do not mix. Frustration sweeps over me, and I fight the urge to fall back on bad habits, let the old demons win out once again. The odds were ominously stacked against me. This time, he would move out and move on, leaving me behind forever. It was sudden and unexpected, but it was inevitable.

I slowly wander away from the window, knowing there are no answers to be found among the artificial city lights, and the fleeting image of me being tempted to wish upon a fucking star is enough to make me nauseous. I make a mental note to send every one of Gus's animated DVDs back to the munchers immediately. No more popcorn-filled movie nights with Justin and Sonny Boy are on my horizon now.

I angrily stalk to our bedroom and pull open the closet, my eyes seeking out my favorite predatory black sleeveless shirt, and tightest suck-my-cock jeans. I pause as I reach for them, realizing they're his favorites, then consider ripping them to shreds and leaving the rags in his duffle bag as a big dramatic gesture.

"See that, Justin? I told you I could change." I would have officially become the most pathetic fag in the Pitts. As grand gesture--presenting my tattered royal wardrobe to Justin to prove my undying, monogamous love for him. It would be the last nail in my club boy coffin.

There would no longer be a need for anyone to point out to me and anyone who would listen how sad it was that I was unwilling and unable to commit to sweet little Sunshine. Or to tell me how I behaved like an adolescent asshole instead of trying to settle down into domestic bliss like Mikey and the Professor.

I'd never cared what others thought of me, it was none of their fucking business who I fucked and how many times I fucked them. But now it pissed me off to no end when the Stepford fag mentality that was busting out all over appeared to be infecting Justin, too. He was the one person besides myself that I thought would be immune.

Maybe after the recent syphilis debacle I should have been more…open to Justin's suggestion that we try to be exclusive for a while. It would be safer for both of us, and there would be no assumption that this would be a permanent step. Monogamy was never mentioned, but I knew that once we agreed, and word got out, there could be no turning back. Whatever we decided on in private would mutate into hearts and flowers once it went public. Justin would be swept along on the tide of happy happy joy joy, and I would be left behind searching for the nearest trick to fuck just to show everyone that I still could.

At least that's the way I had explained it to Justin earlier, right before he called me a fucking egotistical, selfish son of a bitch and stormed out of the loft, slamming the metal door behind him. It was the sound of the other shoe dropping, and I had been waiting to hear it for quite a while; cancer and California had just delayed things a bit.

I ponder my choices, and decide to go with the familiar. I dress quickly, grab my wallet, lube, and keys from the kitchen island, and head off to Babylon. I have no real interest in getting my dick sucked, or fucking anonymous ass, but my bruised ego needs a lot of stroking tonight, and I know my presence there will still be appreciated, even if my eyes will be searching for a blond, blue-eyed little twat.

I park the car in the alley behind the club, and feel my cell phone vibrate as I step out of the car. It's a text message…from him.

_Brian, I'm sorry. Please come dance with me._ I read as I pass through the doors of Babylon.

_Where are you?_ I send back as I push my way through the sweaty, grinding throngs of men crowding the dance floor.

_Waiting for you._ is the reply. Then; _ I don't want to fight. Please dance with me. _

I smile with relief as I recognize the olive branch he is offering, but my anxiety starts to rise again as I continue to scan the crowd with no sign of him.

Suddenly I see him and he dances over to meet me halfway. I press myself tightly against his back, my hands firmly on his hips. He arches his body as he raises his arms and strokes my face, his head tilting back for a kiss. I slide my hands under his shirt and the familiar landscape of his body calms me and incites me at the same time. I lick the side of his neck, and push my nose into his hair, pausing to breath in his intoxicating scent.

"I may have…overreacted…to your earlier suggestion, Sunshine." I concede softly in his ear. It's as close to an apology as I can manage, and I'm counting on him to recognize it as such. He turns abruptly in my arms and cups my face between the palms of his hands, "I see." He regards me solemnly for a heartbeat, than permits a smile to brighten his expression. "Well, I may have erroneously allowed others to have an undue influence on what is important to us."

I smirk at him and lightly catch my bottom lip in my teeth. "Really? Mind control, twat?" I pull him in closer by his waistband and bend my knees so our cocks align together perfectly.

"Fuck you, Brian!" he laughs at me breathlessly as he slips his hands from my face to tangle in my hair, opening his mouth in an invitation my tongue and I are only too happy to accept.

"Not likely." I whisper and he tugs on my hair and nips at my bared neck until I growl his name in pleasure. We dry hump each other on the dance floor to the point of indecency even for Babylon, but I pause when he starts to tug me toward the back room.

"What's wrong?" he's a panting, sweaty mess and he struggles to focus on what has caused me to hesitate. I'm in no better condition than he is, but suddenly it's important to me that this is his choice, and I want him to know that he has nothing to prove to me or anyone else. He searches my face and finds the answer for himself, smart fucker.

"I understand, Brian." He meets my gaze steadily. "It's just between us and we'll work it out together this time. Now take me to the back and fuck me up against the nearest wall." And that's exactly what I do.

So, together we'd take things one step at a time and while we might stumble along the way, somehow we'd manage to catch each other before we could topple headlong into the abyss. We would find our unconventional way together and eventually strike the perfect balance...for us…fuck the rest of the world.

We were inevitable.


End file.
